Legacy
by Shelbecat
Summary: An innocent trip to visit Dawn in Chino quickly spirals out of control when Ryan and Seth meet one of Dawn's old friends.
1. Chapter 1

**Pairing:** Ryan/Seth (friends)  
**Setting:** Shortly after season 1, episode 21 _The Goodbye Girl_.  
**Rating:** M  
**Summary:** An innocent trip to visit Dawn in Chino quickly spirals out of control when Ryan and Seth meet one of Dawn's old friends.

**Author's Note: **I started this in May 2004 and finally have it at a point where I can post. Many thanks to silverweave, sdlucly, and joey51 for the beta. Also, this is otherwise known as "Holes" which I called it initially for some reason, or "The Story That Maud Wants" which I don't need to explain further.

**Legacy  
****Chapter 1**

The funny thing with hope was, it never died. Not even when it was beaten down, stepped on, slapped in the face and called worthless; stubborn hope just kept smiling—defiant.

And it was pissing Ryan off.

He shifted in the impossibly uncomfortable chair he'd been waiting in for hours and wondered whether this time, finally, he'd done enough damage to kill all traces of hope. He'd tried hard before, let the fists and boots beat him until he was bruised and bloodied, but every time he'd wake up and see his mother standing over him, and for that one brief second, he'd hope that she was there to protect him.

And every time, when she'd smile or laugh or ask him why he had to be so much trouble, the hope would fade, never dying, just flitting in the background like a butterfly trapped behind glass.

Until the next time, and the next beating, when it would surge forth again. Stupid hope.

He glanced around the room, sterile and empty. For the fifth time that hour he wondered whether they'd put him here and forgotten about him. Which, as he thought about it, was kind of fitting, or at the very least, what he deserved after the day he'd had.

It had started as such a normal day, mundane even, and he vividly recalled the first feeling he'd had when he opened his eyes—hope that this day was free of drama.

/-/

His purpose was simple, really—just no drama. No crying, no arguing, just a laid back day to relax. As Seth had so matter-of-factly put it the night before, after the hissy-fit that was Oliver, the pity-party that was Marissa, and the hot-naked love with Teresa, life had finally settled into a relatively angst-free period. And Ryan thought he kind of liked it.

Until Seth started that annoying tapping.

Seth was leaning against the kitchen sink, coffee cup raised to his lips. Only instead of drinking, he was tapping. His teeth. Against the mug.

Ryan stared up from his cereal, spoon halfway to his mouth, and shot Seth the evilest glare he could manage. There was nothing worse than repetitive sounds in the morning.

"You know," Seth mused, the tapping ceasing as he replaced it with chatter. "I think I should dye my hair blond."

Ryan shook his head and went back to his cereal. He took it back, chatter was worse.

"I think it would be a good look for me, you know? Very Justin Timberlake before the Britney catastrophe." His teeth snapped down on the ceramic thoughtfully. "What do you think? Blond? Maybe light brown with highlights?"

Ryan chewed his cereal slowly, waiting for Seth to jump to his next subject and eat up the silence.

Seth just stared at him.

Taking a slow sip of his coffee, Ryan placed his mug carefully back on the counter.

Still, Seth stared at him.

Ryan swallowed and picked up his spoon. "You're serious?"

"What do you think?"

"Blond or brown?"

Seth threw his arm up in the air and sighed dramatically. "Nooo," he drawled. "What do you think about me being serious?"

It was too early for Seth. Ryan shook his head and stared at his friend patiently. Sometimes it was better to just give in and wait for Seth to explain.

"Ryan. Ryan, Ryan, Ryan." Seth placed his mug on the island and stretched over the top towards him. "Correct me if I'm wrong here, but two months ago if I would have told you I was considering a makeover, you would have slapped me in the head…hard."

He really was indecipherable sometimes.

"And I would have accepted this slap, because let's face it, me, blond…gives nightmares to babies." Seth shook his head repulsively. "But me, you…you knew when I was joking, or being crazy, and you called me on it. This…" He gestured at Ryan slumped against the counter. "This is not the Ryan I fell in love with, well you know, the Ryan I fell in love with _having_ here. That Ryan, not the Ryan I _love_…"

"Seth?"

"Yes?"

He gave up; maybe it really was better to just ask for an explanation. "What are you talking about?"

"Me, you, us! The destruction of the relationship I have so lovingly crafted since the day you moved in!" Seth placed his hand over his heart, shaking his head sadly. "Really, it pains me to see what we've come to."

Ryan smirked as he took the last bite of his cereal and then stood with his bowl. Pausing by the sink, he clapped one hand on Seth's back securely. "Relax, I never really got you, I was just faking."

"Oh, oh! Now that hurts." Seth shook his head as he turned and leaned against the island. "Dude, you lie. You got me, you _so_ got me, whether you wanted to or not, you got me. And now you're going to get me again."

"I am?"

"Yes, you are. And you know why?"

"Not a clue."

"Because I am putting my foot down. See, see it there?" Seth gestured to his bare foot resting flat against the floor. "It's down."

"Yes it is."

"And do you know why it's down?"

"Because I don't get you?" Ryan asked in defeat.

"Exactly. I've had it; I'm at the end of my rope. And you know I don't usually reach the end of my rope until I've had at least four cups of coffee and it's already after midnight on a school night, but now, today, I stand before you with my foot down and say enough."

Ryan waited for more, then rolled his hand in a gesture for Seth to explain.

"Have you been listening? Why have I been standing here spewing words for the past five minutes when you aren't even paying attention?"

"I'd guess about three words right now would cover exactly what you want to say."

Seth stared at him incredulously.

"Go on, try it."

"Okay, okay, I will…"

"That's four."

"Fine! Three, just three. You, me, alone…time. Okay, that's still four, but come on! We've been planning the guy bonding thing for weeks and now that Luke finally realized that PlayStation also exists in his world, and Marissa is cooling her jets 'independently'." Seth made air quotes and rolled his eyes as he explained Marissa. "Whatever. She's not here, and neither is Teresa, which dude, I know, kinda sucks, because she was cool, but still, I think we should put all our troubles aside and just have a _we _day."

"A _we_ day."

"Yes. A Seth and Ryan bondage session."

Ryan's eyes widened at Seth's slip. Listening to Seth was better than cable.

"Oh no, I did not just say bondage. I did not."

Ryan laughed as he walked back around the island and picked up his coffee mug. He enjoyed the easiness between them, but he knew Seth was right. Lately, his mind had been so occupied with other people's problems that he'd barely acknowledged Seth. Not to mention failing to provide the overdose of attention Seth normally required. A day of just the two of them hanging out together would be nice. "Okay, we'll have our day, but if Summer shows up here…"

"Not gonna happen, she had a nail crisis this morning but apparently she was able to get an emergency appointment this afternoon. Thank God, because you just know the world would have stopped turning, and when the world stops turning, Summer is not a happy person. I try to make Summer a happy person at all times."

"Nice, working?"

"Mostly…and hey!" Seth followed behind Ryan into the den. "You just made a complete sentence out of two words. How'd you do that?"

"Practice."

"And he gets it down to one." Seth flopped onto the couch. "You must teach me."

Ryan laughed as he set down his coffee and lowered himself to the cushions. The phone rang just as he sat and he sighed before standing again.

"If that's Summer tell her I had a hair crisis. Let her know I can empathize," Seth called after him as he reentered the kitchen.

Ryan shook his head as he grabbed the ringing phone. It was innocent—a phone ringing. But it held such promise, such weight. The caller could be anyone really, and as Ryan stepped into the kitchen, he wasn't even aware of the list of possible people scrolling through his head. Then he said 'Hello' and heard the one voice he never expected.

Later he would say that her tone had been cold, but that was probably due to the filter his brain placed on the whole day. In the moment, it sounded like a forced cheerful, slurring lightly as she made her request. The actual words were lost to him, but he was willing to bet they included 'Please' and 'I still love you'. They always included those particular phrases, like he was programmed to react specifically to them. She'd always known exactly what buttons to push to get what she wanted.

It should have been so easy to say no and just hang up the phone, but that stubborn hope reared its ugly head as soon as he heard her voice. With his heart pounding and hope egging him on, he found it impossible to deny her simple request.

_Just come down to visit. Just for an hour._

What could it hurt, really? He hadn't seen her in months, so maybe she really had cleaned up her act.

Even as he hung up the phone and walked back to Seth, he knew he was going to regret going. But that stupid hope kept his mouth and legs moving.

"Everything okay?" Seth asked as he looked up from his game controller.

"Yeah, no, I don't know." Ryan pushed a hand through his hair. "That was my mom."

"Your _Mom_ mom?"

"Yes, Seth. My _Mom_ mom," he snapped in reply. Shit. Ryan bit his lip as he watched Seth recoil slightly from his words. He shouldn't be angry at him, it wasn't Seth's fault. But it was his mother No word since Christmas and now…his _mother_?

"Well, that's cool." Seth looked up at Ryan expectantly. "I mean, it _is_ cool, right?"

Ryan shrugged. Dawn's sudden reappearance wasn't what he'd call cool; it was more like fucking scary.

"I don't know man, it's just…it's weird."

"Yeah but good weird or freaky weird? 'Cause I'd put the long-lost mother calling in the good weird department, except for when it's _your_ mother, then…" Seth stopped, staring at Ryan. "Yeah," he finished softly.

"Yeah," Ryan echoed.

"Sooo, are you, like, meeting her or something?"

Ryan shrugged again.

"You know, this non-verbal communication thing is really working for you, Ryan. I think you should keep that."

Now he scowled.

"I'm just saying, it's a simple question, is she coming here or…"

"I'm going there."

"Oh." Seth paused. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"I have to go." Ryan looked at Seth plaintively. "She's my Mom." The shrug of the shoulders again. "She just wants to see me. It's the least I can do."

"Yeah, no, I get it. Bonding with the maternal-being. Always good, except, mostly not. But I get it."

"Right." Ryan stood up straighter, rubbing his hands on his jeans. "So I should probably go, drive down. You don't mind?"

"No, no, it's cool. Besides, we can bond in Chino too, right?"

"Ah, no." Ryan shook his head as he took a step backwards. Going to Chino to see his mother was bad enough, he wasn't about to take Seth along for the disaster.

"Why not? Is it the laughter thing? Because dude, I'll bring the laughter."

"No, it's because you aren't coming."

"I'm coming."

"No you aren't." Ryan set his mouth firmly and glared at Seth.

"Oooh, scary." Seth rolled his eyes.

"Seth, you can't come, that's final." Ryan turned and walked back into the kitchen.

Seth jumped up to follow him. "Okay, Mom, except I'm going!"

Ryan sighed, exasperated, and turned around to face Seth. "No you aren't. It's not safe."

"But it's fine for you."

"I can take care of myself."

"Obviously, which is why if it weren't for Marissa at Thanksgiving, you'd probably be in some hospital with bars on the window and, like, Nurse Ratchet watching over you. I'm coming; you need me to protect you."

"It's not the root of all evil, it's just Chino."

"Exactly, which is why I'm coming."

Ryan crossed his arms on his chest, staring Seth down.

"Fine! Then how are you going to get there?"

"I'll drive." Ryan looked at the key rack. The keys to Sandy's BMW were the sole pair.

Seth stated the obvious. "Mom and Dad have the Rover and you aren't insured on the beamer."

"And you are?"

"I kinda tore the right fender off the Rover the day before my driving test and we had an insurance emergency. I'm sure they never took me off."

"Whatever," Ryan threw his hands up as he turned and headed for the back door. "You still aren't coming, I'll take the bus."

He was out the door and up the steps to the pool house when he heard Seth calling after him.

"You know how often a bus runs from Newport to Chino? Like, never! I'm coming."

Ryan rolled his eyes as he stepped inside to grab his jacket. As if it wasn't bad enough that he had to face his mother again after all this time, he now had to look after Seth. He clearly remembered Seth hanging upside down from the water polo team at his first Newport party. Not only could the kid get himself into more trouble than he could imagine, he had no clue how to get out of it.

Ryan grabbed his wallet and pulled the door shut behind him. He had a sinking feeling Seth and Chino were not going to hit it off.

/-/

Tugging on his jeans as he changed position again, Ryan thought about where Seth was right now. He'd known Seth was going to be hard to handle, the boy had a way of inserting his foot into his mouth at precisely the worst moment. And Dawn wasn't exactly tolerant of 'insolent little brats', in her poetic words.

But still, even for all the apprehension he'd had taking Seth into the situation, he never imagined that they might not both be coming out.

Ryan dropped his head to his hands and tried to erase the image of Seth lying on the floor, whimpering, bleeding. It was useless. Ryan was responsible for taking him into the situation, and now Ryan was the failure for not getting him out.

/tbc.../


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Making the wrong decision was easy. In the moment, with adrenaline pumping, you only had seconds to choose your path; any outside force at all could affect the outcome. Outside forces like best friends who didn't know what was best for them.

Ryan dug his thumbs into his eyes and tried to erase the memory of Seth pleading for help; the memory of his brown eyes staring up at Ryan in confusion, like he couldn't imagine getting hurt on Ryan's watch.

He knew he should have left Seth in Newport. Stolen the BMW if he'd had to; Sandy and Kirsten would've forgiven him eventually. He should have done whatever it took to prevent their son from walking into a war zone. A visit to Chino was destined to end badly, even if he _had_ lied to Seth and said it was no big deal. Instead he'd let the hurricane force that was Seth-on-a-mission cloud his judgment and now all that was left to do was clean up the carnage.

Opening his eyes, he ignored the wetness blurring his vision and dropped his head. He thought back to that afternoon—he never should have gotten out of the car.

/-/

"This is it, right here." Ryan pointed out the passenger window at a small house set back from the road. "Pull up in front." He stared at the house as Seth slowed to a stop. A large bay window and a door took up the front of the house. That was it. It couldn't have been more than 15 feet wide.

"Hmm, it's…quaint," Seth observed.

Ryan kept his eyes trained on the house—memories of the last house he'd lived in with his mother assaulting his mind. Sure this one was on a different street, and the paint was a different color, but the overwhelming sense that it was exactly the same was choking. Shaking his head abruptly, he sprang from the seat, opened the door, and exited the car. Turning back to Seth, he warned, "Stay here and don't move."

Slamming the door, Ryan looked at the house warily. Then he changed his mind and opened the car door again. "And lock the doors, and don't put down the windows. And if anyone comes up to you, call me on my cell. And don't, like, blow the horn if you hear a great tune or something. We're going for no attention here, got it?"

Seth raised his hands in submission. "Fine, got it. But I can't promise I won't draw a crowd when I turn on my rockin' tunes." He bobbed his head as he fiddled with the CD player, stopping only when Ryan didn't move. "What?" he asked, eyes widening in innocence.

Ryan kept his annoyed look firmly planted on his face.

"Fine, fine, no attention, got it. But you know, it's a BMW in Chino, it's got attention painted all over it."

"I know; that's why I'll only be five minutes. Stay."

Seth raised his hands up under his chin and panted like a dog. "Yes master."

Giving him one last stern look before he slammed the door, Ryan thought again about how out of place Seth was here. As he walked up the concrete path leading to the front door, he glanced down at the brand new CAT boots Kirsten had bought for him yesterday. They were still shining like they sat on a store shelf. He groaned; Seth wasn't the only one out of place in this neighborhood.

As he knocked on the door, he subconsciously rubbed his heel across the toe of his boot. Kirsten would not be impressed.

He turned to glance back at Seth while he waited for someone to answer the door. The driver's seat was reclined all the way back and Seth was invisible through the sun hitting off the side window. The sun roof was open, and Ryan could only imagine that he was taking this opportunity to work on his tan; Summer was starting to rub off on him.

Ryan shook his head and turned back to the house, noticing for the first time that the curtains were drawn across the window. He knocked again and tried to peer in through the blinds covering the window in the door.

When the door opened suddenly, Ryan jerked back, tugging his jacket down over his month-old watch.

"Ry!"

He was smothered in a hug before he could react, overwhelmed by the scent of bourbon and nicotine.

She held him a little too long, then pulled back and dragged him inside the house. Ryan reeled from the sudden absence of light and blinked as his eyes adjusted. The new house was nothing like the old house. The first was white, this was yellow. The first had a covered porch, this had a concrete step. The first had two bedrooms and separate kitchen. This…this had a stained futon in the corner and a card table that passed as a dining room.

They were complete opposites, and yet, as he took a seat on one of the cheap plastic chairs in the corner that served as the kitchen, Ryan felt like he'd lived there his whole life.

"Baby, I'm so glad you came."

Ryan nodded, unable to meet her eyes. They were bloodshot from something—pot, hash, plain old lack of sleep. She'd held a cigarette in her hand when she opened the door, and quickly finished it now, lighting a new one off the first. She was offering him a cup of what looked like day-old coffee when he finally interrupted.

"Why did you call?"

It wasn't supposed to sound as pleading as it did. He was tough, resolved, impervious to her faults. Except he wasn't; and no matter how many times she lied about being clean, each new occurrence was like a sharp backhand to the face.

"I just wanted to see you. I thought we could talk."

"Mom…"

"What?" Dawn said icily.

There it was—the edge. He'd been waiting for it. He stiffened in his chair, eyeing her cautiously.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean," she stumbled.

Words. Empty. She could've told him she'd won a Nobel Prize for all he believed her.

"I just wanted to see you." She sighed, dropping her hand to the table, the tip of her cigarette an angry red. "I just needed to talk to you, okay? Is that so terrible?"

Ryan shifted, focusing on a fly buzzing over the food-crusted dishes piled on the counter. There were enough plates for eight people. He looked back at her warily. "You playing host again? Letting everyone and his dog crash here?"

"No, not everyone, it's just Rick."

Ryan scraped his chair sharply on the floor, hearing and not caring when it tipped over to clatter against the linoleum. "Rick? Rick Trana? Jesus Mom. What are you doing with him?"

Dawn was up and in his face just as fast. "Don't you speak to me like that, you hear me? Rick took care of this family for five years. Who do you think bailed Trey out of jail the first time he stole a car? Who do you think paid for your hospital bills when you fell down the stairs?"

"Mom!" Ryan was incredulous. "Rick _showed_ Trey how to hotwire a car. He _took_ me upstairs and told me to stop crying or I was flying. You were here! You know what he did!"

Dawn sucked hard on her cigarette. "Rick might have his faults." Her breath rushed out in a cloud of blue smoke. "But he has _always_ looked out for us. We never got evicted once when he was around. It wasn't until you had to blab to that teacher…"

"I had two black eyes in a week. She called the cops." Ryan remembered that day—sitting in the principal's office like he was the one in trouble. Listening to the cops tell him that he'd cooperate or they'd take him away from his mother. Pissing his pants when Dawn marched into the school to rip him away by the arm.

"I spent a week in the hospital." Ryan's voice was soft. "He was a drug dealer, and that was one of his better qualities."

"Yeah?" A gravelly voice erupted from the shadows behind him. "And his most profitable."

Ryan closed his eyes at the sound of the new voice in the house. All those years and it could still take him back to the steeled-toed boot connecting with his stomach.

/-/

He should have just said he'd do it. It didn't matter what Sandy and Kirsten said, they never would have left him in Chino. Not with Seth there.

Ryan stretched his arms up over his head, wincing when a sliver of pain lanced through his side. Standing slowly, he cupped his right hand to his ribs and walked around the chair.

How long would they make him wait? Were they just going to leave him here? Sandy and Kirsten had to be here by now. They had to know something.

A sudden burst of frustration surged in him and he lashed out at the metal chair. Kicking it over on the floor, he continued his attack until the leg caught him square in the shin and he limped away.

Fists clenched and eyes tight, he swore that if they both got out of this okay, he was never going to ignore his gut feeling again. Even if his mother called and said she was bleeding, he'd call an ambulance first, then Sandy. He didn't trust himself to make the right decisions. He'd messed up enough for two lifetimes today.

He could still remember the moment it all changed. It was a simple question; a yes or no answer. All he had to do was say yes. Instead he tried to stall.

/-/

"Sit down, Ryan, Rick just wants to talk."

Ryan stared at his mother, half swaying on her feet. What could Rick possibly have to say to him that he'd want to hear? His mother reached out for Rick, her hand trembling just slightly. Ryan shook his head—suddenly he knew exactly what was going on. He sat down with a defeated thud.

"You know, son," Rick started.

Ryan winced when Rick used the familial term.

Rick grabbed a beer from the fridge and took a seat at the table. "I always knew you'd make something of yourself. I just figured it'd be selling drugs, or running cars like your brother."

Ryan kept his mouth shut, lips pressed firmly together.

"Guess you don't need all that when you got someone wiping your ass for ya."

Dawn and Rick broke into a chorus of laughter. Ryan exhaled slowly through his nose and waited for the ball to drop.

"So…" Rick stretched his legs out beneath the table, kicking the side of Ryan's chair. "I was thinking you and me could do a little business. Keep your momma happy. You wanna keep her happy, don't ya?"

Ryan kept his eyes focused firmly on his lap.

"I mean, she's the one who gave you all this. If it wasn't for her, you'd still be living in some Chino shit-hole, right?"

Ryan's eyes flicked up to Rick, quickly over to Dawn, then back to his lap. Yeah, he owed his mother everything. The mansion in Newport, the new clothes on his back, the cell phone in his pocket—all thanks to Dawn. What a joke.

"So it's only fair, Ryan, that you pay your debts when they're called."

Ryan hated the way Rick said his name. Like two separate words—_Rye-Anne_. He ground his teeth together and chanced another glance up at Rick.

"People get down on their luck all the time. Need a little help to get back on track. You know what that feels like. You've been there."

His bottom lipped flicked under his top teeth and he watched Rick steadily.

"So your Mom just needs a little help. You're not gonna say no to that, are ya?"

Ryan looked quickly at Dawn. She drew shakily on her cigarette and shot him a nervous smile.

Rick prodded him. "Ryan?"

There was that stupid pronunciation again. Ryan shook his head, wishing that he didn't already know what they were going to ask.

Dejectedly, he asked, "What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing that's gonna hurt. All you gotta do is call up your lawyer friend and tell him you need some money. Not much, just a couple thou'. We'll get the cash and then you can leave. Easy-peasy."

Easy-peasy? Ryan's eyes widened in shock. Ask Sandy for a couple of thousand dollars. Just like that. Simple.

"I…I can't…"

Rick's gaze hardened. "What'd you say?"

Ryan cleared his throat hesitantly. "I mean, I can't just get that kind of money. Not without a reason." He looked at his mother for support. Nothing.

"Well, tell them you want to join the Boy Scouts. I'm sure you'll think of something."

Rick's tone left no doubt that Ryan had better think of something, or else.

"Mom?" Ryan's voice was pleading as he looked at his mother.

She looked like she might give in for a second. Her eyes filled with remorse before a short cough from Rick banished the emotion. "I need this, baby. You owe me."

"I owe you." He repeated it like a statement. He should have known it would come down to this. He could run as far away from Chino as he wanted, he would never truly leave.

"Well I can't do it." He stopped when he saw the fierceness in Rick's glare. "I mean, they're not home, they weren't, when we…when _I _left."

Ryan stopped and stared down at his lap again. He just had to get out of there. Figure out a way to stall long enough to leave and get back to Newport. Then he could try to sort out what he had to do. He just needed to buy himself some time.

"I can ask them when I get home. I need a reason. They won't just give it to me."

"Oh I think they will," Rick said slowly.

"But I've got to explain. They don't just have cash lying around the house."

"We don't need cash lying around the house, because you aren't leaving here until we get the money."

Not leaving? But how was he supposed to get it? Ryan's heart sunk when he realized Rick was deadly serious.

"Look." He tried to stall. "Why don't you take my watch, pawn it? It's got to bring at couple hundred." Ryan pulled the new watch Kirsten had given him off his wrist and pushed it across the table. He stood up as if to leave; it'd have to be enough.

Rick looked like he was going to agree. He picked up the watch and examined it carefully. "Nice. But you're still not leaving. Now sit down."

"But I have to go and explain it to them."

Rick's arm, which had been resting below the table, slowly moved out to his side. Ryan watched in slow motion as his hand rose into view. He knew what he was going to see before it was visible and closed his eyes to the sight.

A sharp click broke the silence followed by the grainy tone of Rick's voice. "Sit. Down."

Ryan slowly sat back down in his chair, his eyes trained on the silver-plated gun gripped tightly in Rick's hand.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Déjà vu was a powerful thing. The situation didn't have to be exactly the same, even one element, one turn of the head or movement of a hand, and you were right back in the first time—emotions rushing over you uncontrollably.

That's what Ryan felt when Rick rested the gun on the edge of the table. Another house, another boyfriend—Eric, or maybe Enrique—another gun. Different circumstances, same result. Ryan was on the receiving end of a muzzle, and he'd be lucky to get out alive.

He tried his mother one last time, pleading silently for her to diffuse the situation. She looked embarrassed, scared.

"I need the money, baby," she mumbled, shrinking under Rick's glare. "You know they can afford it."

Sure they could afford it—the Cohen's could afford to pay his mother's debt, buy this house, and probably have the street repaved for the whole neighborhood. All without even transferring funds into their checking account. But could they afford to pay for Ryan? And could he afford to ask them?

He shifted gingerly in his chair. "I, uh…I gotta…can I use the washroom?"

His face flushed red as Rick grunted permission. Ryan rose and walked slowly towards the lone bathroom near the back of the house. There was no door to hide behind, not that he could fit through the one tiny window anyway. From the kitchen, they had a clear view of his actions. As he mustered the courage to go, a knock on the front door interrupted the strained silence.

"Who the fuck is that?" Rick was up and walking towards the door, the gun gripped tightly in his hand.

Ryan zipped up and felt his chest tighten as he watched. No way. He wouldn't.

Rick peeked through the dusty blinds covering the door. "What the hell? Dawn! You know any scrawny white kids?"

Ryan closed his eyes. God damn it. Seth. If he got out of here without a hole in his stomach, he was going to strangle him.

"Let me see." Dawn shot Ryan a warning look as she crossed the living room. _You better not fuck this up. _She looked out the window and cursed. "God damn it, Ryan. You brought the kid?"

"No! No, I didn't. He drove."

"Fuck." Rick swore under his breath, taking another glance out at Seth. "Get rid of him."

Dawn walked over to Ryan and pulled hard on his shoulder. "Rick doesn't want to hurt you," she hissed low under her breath. Her eyes were clouded and Ryan felt his chest constrict as he saw no emotion displayed there. "Just get rid of him."

"Okay, okay." Ryan shook off Dawn's grip and walked cautiously towards Rick. His eyes never left the gun. He reached out for the door and felt the cold press of steel through his shirt as Rick pushed the weapon into his side. He tensed, then opened the door a crack and looked out.

Seth smiled when the door opened, beaming at Ryan. "Dude! Do you know how hot it gets out here? I swear, Chino is like the Hades of California. Roastin'."

"Seth…"

"Do you need some company or anything? I could make coffee. You know, for chatting. I'm good at the coffee, well, and the chatting."

"Seth…"

"And I could meet your mom again." Seth suddenly seemed to notice Ryan standing there. "What?"

"Go home."

Seth blinked. "Come again?"

He wanted to scream. _Just listen to me!_ Instead, he swallowed hard and tried to convince Seth to leave. "Go home without me. I'm gonna stay here for a bit."

"Oh, well, I can stay. I didn't have anything to do today, just the bonding."

Ryan bit down hard on his lower lip. Seth just had to be Seth. Stubborn. He could hear Rick breathing heavily behind him. Seth had maybe five seconds to get off the porch before he was dragged right into the middle of this nightmare. "I don't want you to stay. Just go. I'll be home later."

"But it's fine, I can stay."

"I said go." Ryan's voice left no room for arguing.

Seth ran a hand through his hair, visibly confused. "Okay sure, I can go." He stared at Ryan for a long moment. "But call me if you want a ride, or like, if you wanna come home. I mean, I can come back, or I can wait."

Ryan shook his head and Seth finally shrugged, clearly not understanding, and turned to walk down the stairs. Pulling back inside, Ryan felt Rick ease a little pressure off the gun.

Then Seth turned and bounded back up the stairs. "Hey! How do you get to the freeway from here?"

"That's it," Rick mumbled, grabbing the door.

Ryan clapped his hand firmly on the door, fighting to keep Rick from pulling it all the way open.

Looking out at Seth, he gave him his best fuck off stare. "You know how to get back, Seth. Just take the second left and follow the signs."

"But I don't…" Seth protested.

"Fuck this." Rick yanked the door open.

Ryan stumbled sideways, still trying to stay between Seth and Rick. A helping hand from Rick sent him sprawling to the floor.

"No, don't!" Ryan tried to get up, tried to wedge his foot in the door, tried to do anything to stop Seth from entering the house, but it was pointless.

Rick reached out and grabbed a stunned Seth by the collar, hauling him into the house. He slammed the door and shoved Seth towards Ryan on the floor.

Ryan caught him as he fell, both of them falling back in a tangle of misplaced limbs.

"Whoa, man, take it easy," Seth said. "If you wanted me to come in, all you had to do was ask."

"Seth…" Ryan cautioned.

"What?" Seth pushed himself off of Ryan and dusted his hands on his knees. He turned around to face Rick. "I'm just saying…" His voice faded as he finally saw the gun.

Ryan reached out a hand to touch Seth's leg. "Just take it easy, okay. Let me handle it."

Seth looked at Ryan, then back at Rick. "Duuude," he said under his breath. "What's with the gun?"

Rick's face reddened and he pointed the gun firmly at the prattling boy. "Does he ever shut up?" Rick said to Ryan.

"Well of course I shut up, I mean I do sleep…"

"Shut the fuck up!"

Rick yelled his last command, raising the gun as he did. Ryan thought that Seth had finally gotten it; his body shrunk back a little more at the words. Rick, however, didn't get the memo because he held the gun firmly in his hand and pulled the trigger.

/tbc/


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Ryan was lost. Seth had been there just a second ago but now, with his ears ringing from the shot and Dawn screaming that Rick was going to piss off the neighbors, the world seemed coated in a thick fog that he couldn't claw his way through.

Then he heard Seth's voice and reached out a hand to find him.

"Jesus and Moses, I'm shot."

"Seth!" Ryan turned on the floor, scrambling to bring himself to Seth's side. Frantically, his eyes panned over the boy's sprawled body, his hands patting Seth's legs and chest as he looked for injury. "Where?"

Seth wasn't cooperating. "He shot me. Oh, God, he shot me."

"I didn't shoot you, get up!" Rick was shouting to be heard and Ryan was ignoring him.

He stared at Seth; he couldn't find any blood. Seth wasn't holding a particular part of his body, just flailing wildly in a panic. "Seth!" He finally got the other boy's attention. "Where did he shoot you?"

"I don't…I'm not…He shot me." He locked eyes with Ryan. "You saw that, right? He shot me."

"Get up! Both of you!" Rick was still waving his gun, kicking Ryan in the leg to get off the floor.

Ryan stayed put. "I saw it, but did he get you? Are you bleeding?"

Seth ran his hands over his body. "I don't think so. He missed?" He looked like he might cry as he locked gazes with Ryan.

"Rick, put that damn gun away before you actually shoot someone." Dawn was pulling him away from the boys on the floor, chastising him about always having to wave the gun around.

Ryan felt a wave of nausea wash over his body. He'd missed. Rick had aimed right at Seth, he was sure of it; how did he miss? Or had he aimed high? Was it just a warning shot? Ryan felt his stomach lurch. He couldn't take this—imaging all the horrors that could happen was one thing, but the gun going off just made everything a little too real.

"Come on." Ryan offered a hand to Seth and pulled him to his feet. "You okay?"

"I might need a change of pants, but yeah, all parts intact."

Ryan let his gaze linger on Seth for another moment, then turned to Dawn and Rick. She was lighting up another cigarette and he was taking a swig of beer—just a typical day in the Atwood household. He had to get Seth out of here before the day held true to form and the beatings started.

"Look." Ryan stepped forward to focus Rick's attention solely on him. "Seth doesn't have anything to do with this. Let him go home. I'll get your money somehow."

"Oh yeah?" Rick took a lit cigarette from Dawn and puffed on it. "And exactly what does 'somehow' include?"

"I don't know, I just…"

"Forget it kid. I don't need you to get the money."

Ryan frowned in confusion.

"I think Richie Rich here is a better bet." Rick grinned like a Cheshire cat. "Aren't you…what did you say your name was?"

"Ahh…Seth."

"Seth," Rick repeated. "You're the rich kid that took our boy Ryan in, aren't ya?"

Ryan glanced at Seth; he was nodding furiously.

"Right, so then you should have a nice fat wad in your pocket, hey?"

"Well I don't…I mean, I don't have cash."

"Of course you don't, Sethie; but any bank machine will do if you've got a credit card." Taking another swallow of his beer, he handed the can to Dawn and gestured toward the door with his gun. "Why don't you and me take a little drive, let Ryan catch up with his momma for a bit?"

"Ooo-kay," Seth said slowly, looking at Ryan.

Ryan shook his head and turned on Rick. "No way. Take me, I know his PIN."

"You do?" Seth asked.

"Not the point," Ryan tossed over his shoulder.

"Right."

"Forget it," Rick said. "I don't trust you; you always had a nasty habit of biting back. My pal Seth here will do exactly what he's told. Won't ya, Sethie?"

"Uh, sure." Seth sounded anything but sure.

"So you hang out here, help yourself to a beer. We'll be right back." Rick signaled for Seth to head out the door first.

Ryan grabbed Seth's arm as he passed. "Don't do anything stupid," he mumbled under his breath. "Just do what he says and don't try to be some superhero."

"Dude, there's no superhero who fights idiocy," Seth whispered back.

Ryan shook his head, watching helplessly as Seth walked toward the door. Rick followed close behind, whispering an ominous sounding warning into Seth's ear. He clenched his fists as the door shut on the pair—he was stuck. If he left, Rick wouldn't hesitate to take his anger out on Seth. If he stayed, he was just a sitting duck, waiting for Rick to get back and explode again.

"Come sit down, baby." Dawn, smoking a cigarette at the table, took two beers from the fridge and held one out to Ryan.

Ryan thought he'd throw up when he looked at her. He should have expected this—a part of him sort of did. His voice cracked as he spoke. "How could you let him do that?"

"Do what? Go with Seth?" She was oblivious as she popped her beer and took a long swallow. "Rick's not going to do anything to him. You can trust him."

"Trust him?" Ryan crossed the room in three long strides. "Are you kidding me? Rick, the drug dealer? Rick, the guy who broke my arm when I was eight?"

"You broke your arm when you fell off your bike."

Ryan's voice was forced. "_Rick_ broke my arm. I fell off my bike, my knee was bleeding and I was crying. He broke it because I wouldn't shut up. How can you be like this? How can you hate me _that _much?"

"Hate you? You think I hate you? You think me letting you go off to live in the big mansion on the hill is hate?" Dawn was slurring but there was no mistaking the sharpness in her voice.

"You didn't _let _me live there, you _left_ me there. You didn't want me; you just abandoned me. How can you ask me for anything?"

Dawn stood up, ashes flying from her cigarette. "You are better off now that you ever were with me and you know it. That's love, Ryan. When you love your kids you do anything to give them a better life."

Ryan scoffed. "Yeah, like hold them hostage 'til they pay your debts."

"I need this. You won't even notice it's gone. Why can't you do something for me for a change?"

A sudden rush of tears clouded Ryan's vision. "Shut up." His voice came out like a strangled whisper. "Shut up."

"Don't you talk to me like that." Dawn flew around the table towards him. She gripped his face tight with one hand. "You do exactly what you're told and no one gets hurt, okay? Not you, not me, and not your precious little _brother_."

She spat the last word so that Ryan blinked to get away from her. As she held him tight in her grip, one thought flashed in his mind—he could hit her. It would be easy, just bring his arm up, crash it down on hers; he could do it no problem. Then the reality of what he thought, what being here reduced him to, hit him hard and he pulled free. Backing away, he didn't look at her again; he couldn't stomach the thought of even speaking to her right now. Until Seth came back, he couldn't stomach the thought of doing anything but waiting. He crossed his arms over his chest and started pacing.

/-/

Ryan lost count of his laps around the living room at 150-something. He'd successfully ignored his mother's pitiful attempts at conversation, finally silencing her with a look that said he was never forgiving her no matter how many beers she offered. When the BMW pulled up in front of the house, he was out the door and down the steps before Seth even got out of the car.

"Whoa, boy, where do you think you're going?" Rick held a fresh beer to his lips as he stood from the vehicle.

Ryan ignored him and opened the driver's door. "Everything okay? He hurt you?"

"Nah, man, everything's cool." Seth looked surprisingly calm as he unfolded himself from the car. "We got some cash, even made a pit stop for some food, among other things." The last part of his sentence came out under his breath.

Ryan frowned; no way, Rick wouldn't be that desperate for a hit. He looked across the roof at Rick who had a fresh glassy look to his eyes. He was; he had taken Seth on a drug run. "God damn," he said softly.

"Chill, it's all cool. I got us covered."

He shot Seth a confused look. He what? Before he could ask him anything, Rick slapped his hand on the roof of the car. "Grab the food, boys, we've got pizza and beer for everyone."

"You got the money, right? We should get back." Ryan looked anxiously at the car; freedom was so close.

"Oh I got the money all right, but I think your mom would want you to stay; you haven't seen her in a while."

"We just spent the whole afternoon together," Ryan snapped. "We've got to get home."

Rick rounded the car and looked down on Ryan menacingly. "When are you going to learn? _This_ will always be your home. Now get the damn food and bring it inside before I have to show off my piece to the whole neighborhood."

Rick stood back from Ryan a little but the message was clear. He could do what he said, or do what he said—there was no choice. Avoiding Seth's eyes, he ripped open the back door and grabbed the two pizzas sitting there. This entire situation was spiraling out of his control faster than he'd dreamed. For now his only move was to keep Rick happy and maybe they'd walk out of this in one piece. As Ryan followed Seth inside the house, Rick bringing up the rear, he seriously doubted they'd both be walking out.

/-/

Ryan thought back to this afternoon. He hadn't thought things would get that bad, not really. But then he shouldn't have been surprised—he dragged trouble behind him wherever he went.

Leaning against the wall of his makeshift prison cell, Ryan dropped his head to his hands. _Stay here. Don't move. An officer outside the door. _He had to find out how Seth was. Let them arrest him again, he didn't care; at this point he didn't think he could get in any more trouble if he tried.

Rushing to the door, Ryan yanked it open only to see a surprised Sandy standing on the other side. He felt his stomach clench as he took in the distraught look on the man's face. He searched for an answer in Sandy's eyes as he asked, "How is he? How's Seth?"

"Ryan."

Sandy's voice was gravelly—like he'd been crying? No, please, no. Ryan wrapped his arms around his chest, backing away slowly. "No, he's fine, he was fine, please."

Sandy wet his lips slowly, mumbling something to the officer standing by his side before entering the room and closing the door behind him.

"I think you should sit down, son."

Ryan backed up until he hit the hospital bed behind him; the bed where he was supposed to be waiting for treatment. He was aware of sitting down, aware of Sandy approaching, but he couldn't hear anything—blood rushed his ears until he swore he was actually going deaf. He'd faced a lot of pain in his day—his dad leaving, his mom kicking him out—but nothing had ever cut through him like the look on his foster father's face did at that moment; the look that said nothing was ever going to be the same again.

/tbc/


	5. Chapter 5

**Legacy  
****Chapter 5**

For a sheltered rich kid, Seth was surprisingly calm during their strained 'family' meal. He kept smiling at Ryan, nodding to himself satisfactorily. If Rick and Dawn noticed, they didn't say anything; but perhaps the appetizer of a quick cocaine hit had dulled their edges.

It wasn't until Dawn was grabbing more beers, and Rick was in the bathroom, that Ryan kicked Seth's chair and whispered, "Tell me."

"Dude, I so got us covered; Dad got that Assist program in the Beamer. I hit the little SOS button when we got out of the car. They'll call his cell, he'll think it's stolen, we're good."

Ryan's face fell. "You didn't. Tell me you didn't."

"What? It's cool, man. There are probably cops on the way right now. We're rescued!"

Only Seth could make being held hostage sound exciting. Ryan shook his head and stole a quick glance at his mother rustling though the litter on the counter for a cigarette. The absolute last thing they needed in this situation was the police. If Rick saw the cops pull up, he wouldn't hesitate to start shooting. What else did he have to lose with two hostages in his living room and a gram of coke spread out on the coffee table?

Ryan stood from the table. "Mom, we really have to go."

"What?" She looked up distractedly, her eyes matching Rick's glassy look perfectly.

It would have been nice to feel surprised, even hurt by her appearance, but instead Ryan felt nothing but acceptance. It had been this way for as long as he could remember, empty promises that she would change hadn't made him forget.

"We have to leave. Seth's parents are going to worry."

"Oh, sure, baby, that's fine." She stepped forward and kissed his cheek lightly. "Thanks for coming all the way down here."

He closed his eyes and accepted her kiss; there were no words to respond with even if he had wanted to. Nodding as she stepped away, he avoided Seth's eyes and headed for the door. Seth was supposed to be right behind him, he was supposed to get that this was dangerous and he had to be careful, but Seth often got caught up in moments; let his mouth make the decisions where his brain should have. Seth was still in the kitchen saying goodbye to Dawn when Ryan noticed the red and blue lights flashing across the walls. One thing you could count on in Chino—prompt police response. Damn. They had to get out of here before Rick noticed. Ryan shot a look back at Seth who was enveloping Dawn in a hug. Mentally, he measured the distance between himself and the door; he could make it—dive for the lawn head first, grass stains be damned—instead he just stood there, waiting for Seth, as Rick exited the bathroom and noticed the same lights.

"What the fuck?" Rick was across the room and pushing Ryan away from the door before he could react. "What are the cops doing here?"

Through the thin curtain covering the front window, Ryan saw a cop car parked next to Sandy's BMW; the lights on top of the car highlighting everything in their path. He glanced over his shoulder at Seth then warily looked back at Rick.

"You called the fucking cops, God damn it!" Rick kicked the door and peered out through the blinds. "Fuck!" He paced a few steps away from the door, then turned and repeated the motion.

He was fuming and Ryan's mind raced as he tried to control the situation. "Take it easy, man. I didn't call the cops, I swear."

Rick looked up, eyes glassy, head shaking. "I know you didn't, but that little punk…" He gestured to Seth.

Ryan kept his eyes on Rick, legs tensing to pounce. When Rick moved for his gun, Ryan exploded from the starting blocks. He was across the room in seconds; he should have had time to stop him, but Ryan Atwood's life never seemed to work out like it was supposed to.

The gun exploded as his shoulder collided with Rick's gut. The motion propelled them backwards, two bodies crashing into the wall in a flurry of fists. Ryan couldn't hear anything, his whole body vibrating like a human tuning fork. Instinct took over and he just kept pounding whatever felt soft. It wasn't until he realized that the shrieks he heard were actually coming from himself that he stopped. Then he heard the voice.

"Oh shit."

He pulled back, head shaking. Rick was lying on the floor, face bloody; had he caused that? The voice spoke again and Ryan turned.

Seth was standing in the middle of the room, hands pressed to his side, red dye staining a growing circle on his shirt. It was his '_Have you hugged my shirt today_' shirt; his favorite. Behind Seth, Dawn's mouth was moving but Ryan couldn't hear her voice. Instead his eyes were fixated on Seth's lips. As Seth dropped to his knees, his mouth opened and with one word he asked all the questions in the world.

"Ryan?"

/-/

The world was moving in slow motion. Ryan could see Seth there before him but couldn't make his legs move. He tried crawling but the carpet, like quicksand, reached up and held him fast.

"Seth! You're okay, Seth!"

Seth was lying on his side, staring at Ryan; his eyes wide and frightened, mouth opening and closing like a dying fish. If Ryan could just move, just pull his legs. A heavy thud to his back stopped his progress and he collapsed to the floor. Somehow, Rick was on him again, fists connecting with an already screaming side. He kicked, fighting to free himself. Then he felt the steel gun press into his neck, searing metal leaving its mark on his skin. He howled and pushed upwards but Rick had climbed up on him now, pushing down to make him one with the floor. Far away he could hear screams—high-pitched, like a banshee wailing—but right there in his own personal hell he could only focus on Seth. On getting away from Rick and saving his friend.

The gun was burning its way into his spine, digging for the best hold. Rick was going to pull the trigger. Through clouded-red vision he locked eyes with Seth. He'd failed. It was his fault Seth was here in Chino, bleeding on filthy carpet. He had to make it right, he had to tell him. Jaw mashed into the floor, Ryan gasped, "I'm sorry!"

Rick shifted his weight and fireworks went off in Ryan's head. He moaned, bringing his hands up to block out the sound. It was pointless—he was seeing stars and hearing nothing but waves of pain. This was it, Rick had finally won. Ryan lay very still, trying to sense the edge between pain and reality. He felt the weight on his back shift, slide away. Tensing, he testing his muscles; he could move, he was okay. Not understanding way, and caring less, he crawled toward Seth on his elbows, half-dragging his legs behind him.

Seth's face was streaked with tears. He was panting, shaking his head and rocking slightly. "He didn't miss, Ry. He didn't miss."

"I know, I know. Stay with me." Ryan struggled to his knees, a sob escaping his lips as his ribs threatened to cave in against the movement. His head was vibrating at a frequency beyond pain and his eyes blurred as he tried to focus on Seth. He was bleeding—there was blood all over his shirt—but where was the wound? He was running his hands all over Seth's chest, searching for the source of blood when he was suddenly plucked away.

Arms and legs flailing, he rallied to get free. His side was on fire but someone was pulling him back, slamming his face down into the floor and kneeling on him again. Ryan bucked against the force but it was useless. His arms were wrenched behind his back and he closed his eyes as he felt the cool metal of handcuffs lock around his wrists.

The police. They had been just outside. They must have heard the gunshot. Ryan tried to breathe as he waited for help, for someone to help Seth. From his place mashed into the carpet all he could see were boots—heavy black boots moving about the room. A pair stopped in front of his eyes, then knees appeared, then arms—someone was leaning over Seth.

_You okay, son?_

Someone was lifting Ryan to his feet, away from Seth. "Wait! Is he okay?" His questions went unanswered as he was herded toward the door. Over his shoulder he saw paramedics crowding around Seth—they'd help him. He'd be okay.

_He's lost a lot of blood._

No. "Help him!" He was almost out the door. He had to make sure Seth was okay!

_Get the paddles._

_We're losing him!_

Ryan screamed as he was pushed out the door. Into the cool night air of Chino, he let his anger fly. Seth was his responsibility, his brother; he couldn't live with himself if anything happened.

As the officers pushed Ryan's head down into the police cruiser, he begged them to go back. Just go back and help, make sure Seth was okay. But they ignored his pleas. Slamming the door, they climbed inside and pulled away from the house. Ryan stared over his shoulder as the car coasted down the road; today was his fault and no matter how it turned out, he was never going to forgive himself.

/tbc/


	6. Chapter 6

**Legacy  
Chapter 6**

Sandy was speaking but Ryan couldn't hear anything. His ears were ringing louder than they had when the shot went off.

"I'm sorry, son. They tried everything."

No, no, no. This wasn't happening, not to Seth. Not to someone as good as Seth.

Sandy kept speaking, "Your mom will be arraigned in the morning. She probably won't get bail, but it should be manslaughter."

Wait. Ryan looked up sharply, his breath hitching. What did he say? "My mother?"

"I know it's hard, but she was just trying to protect you and Seth." Sandy placed a gentle hand on Ryan's shoulder. "She probably saved your life."

"No. My mom didn't do anything." Sandy wasn't making sense. Ryan shook his head, tried to think, then locked eyes with his foster father. "Where is Seth?"

"He's upstairs, Kirsten's with him. He's complaining up a storm, as you can imagine."

"What?" Ryan's voice was a choked whisper. "He's fine?"

Sandy stopped, gave Ryan a confused look. "It's just a scratch. He needs a few stitches, but otherwise he's going to be okay."

Ryan shook his head, pursing his lips to stop the sob that rose in his throat but it was useless. He bowed his head as tears spilled over, his shoulders shaking as the tension of the past few hours was released. Sandy sat beside him on the bed, a warm arm encircling Ryan's shoulders. He tried to resist, sit firm, but he was all out of resolve for one day. Letting Sandy's arm support him, he wiped at his eyes and tried to understand.

"I just thought, there was so much blood, and then the paramedic said…"

Sandy's hand rubbed his shoulder briskly. "I don't have the full story, kid, but your mom has been arrested for shooting this Rick Trana guy. The officer said he shot Seth and was about to shoot you when she stepped in."

Ryan remembered the second gunshot, the gun blazing against his neck, then it was gone. He raised a hand to his neck, wincing when he felt the blistered skin. "I hit Rick, I punched him, but he got up." The memory was coming back slowly. "Seth was right there but I couldn't reach him, and Rick was on me, then the gun went off."

Suddenly it all clicked in Ryan's brain. The second gunshot wasn't from Rick's gun, how could it be? He wouldn't be sitting here to tell the tale if Rick had been successful. There was another gun; Ryan closed his eyes and nodded. His mother had shot and killed Rick. Just when he needed her most, she'd stepped up and saved his life.

Sandy was standing now, coaxing him to rest. "Why don't you lie down? We'll get a doctor in here to check you over."

"No." He resisted, pushing against the bed to stand again. "I want to see Seth."

"You will, but you need to see a doctor."

"No." Ryan's voice was firm. "I need to see him. I need to make sure…" His eyes begged Sandy to give in. This day had been so horrific; he needed Seth to find sanity again.

Sandy hesitated, then finally nodded. "Okay, but you need a wheelchair." He put up a hand before Ryan could protest. "No arguments."

Ryan sagged against the bed, his ribs were screaming and his fist was bloody from connecting with Rick's face. His fingers explored the welt on his neck; so much damage and he was the least injured. A knot tightened in his stomach as he waited for Sandy to return. Seth was okay, he believed it, but what about their relationship? He'd brought Seth to Chino, pushed him into the danger zone. It was his fault that Seth was injured at all.

And then there was his mother. With his left hand, Ryan rubbed his face roughly. His emotions toward her had run the gamut from worship to disgust, back to hope and now reverence. How did he even begin to deal with that?

Ryan looked up as the door opened. Sandy was standing sideways in the doorway, a wheelchair by his legs. His hand was raised to an unseen face and he sounded irritated.

"Officer Spensky, I am this boy's father _and_ his lawyer. Unless you plan to charge him with being in the unfortunate position of bearing witness to a crime, of which he is also the victim I might add, I am going to take him to see my other son, his brother, who has been shot and who would very much like a visitor. Do you have a problem with that?"

Ryan smiled for the first time in hours; give Sandy a case to dig into and he really grabbed on.

Pushing the wheelchair ahead of him, Sandy shook his head as he entered the room. "I spoke to an ADA friend of mine. They won't be pressing any charges against you or Seth, obviously, and there will be profuse apologies for your initial arrest."

Bowing his head, Ryan felt his cheeks flush—this brought him to three arrests since Sandy had known him; he certainly couldn't say the same about Seth. "I think I was trying to help Seth when the cops came in. Maybe they thought I hurt him…" Ryan's voice faded as he thought about the actual role he'd played in Seth's injury.

Sandy left the wheelchair next to the bed and resumed his seat next to Ryan. "Whatever their reason, they were wrong. You should never have been blamed for this."

"But I took him down there. I shouldn't have let him come."

Sandy pursed his lips. "Actually, what you should have done is not gone at all." He turned toward Ryan. "What were you thinking? Going back to Chino, after everything that's happened? I expect better from you Ryan. I expect you to think."

A heavy silence settled between the two men, uneasiness thick like molasses oozing into Ryan's wounds. He'd known it was wrong to go down there—he'd known it as soon as Seth volunteered to come and the familiar sinking feeling settled in his stomach. The sinking feeling didn't often accompany the right decision, it was a surefire sign to turn back and try another path. But Ryan was stronger than a foreboding sense of danger, or at least he thought he was.

"It was wrong. I just…I thought I could handle it." He couldn't raise his head, couldn't meet Sandy's eyes. "My mom just sounded so desperate to talk, and I hadn't seen her in son long." His voiced trailed off, what a pathetic explanation.

Sandy was quiet for a long moment, then he put his arm back on the boy's shoulders and gave him two quick hugs. "You know Ryan, ever since you came to us, I wondered when the day would come that you'd leave."

Ryan turned his head sharply, narrowing his eyes.

"Now, don't act all surprised." Sandy smiled to offset the tension. "You were a fish out of water, everyone could see that, and I kept thinking, is this bubble going to burst? Are we going to lose him?" He let his arm drop from Ryan's shoulder, pulling it back to his lap. "We've accepted you like a son, like a son that we've always had. And sometimes I forget that you haven't always been here; that you were somewhere else once, and that place deserves to be recognized."

Ryan looked away, focused on his injured right hand. Sandy was hitting close to home, saying things Ryan had never admitted to anyone. Hearing his innermost fears put into words was unsettling—it threw him off balance like diving for a curve ball…and missing.

Sandy continued, "What I'm trying to say, and making a real mess of, is that I can understand why you had to go to see your Mom. And we want you to always feel like you have that right." He paused, linking his fingers together. "But I want you to remember that you can always, always call us. Even if it's just to check in; ask if you can borrow the Beamer."

Ryan looked back at him now, apprehension painted on his face.

Sandy nodded solemnly. "Yes, I know about the Beamer, which I shall now affectionately call the Chino-mobile."

Ryan's eyes widened. Sandy sure was taking this all in stride. Then his foster father smiled, and Ryan couldn't help himself. He let a small chuckle escape, wincing when a sharp pain lanced through his side.

"Alright." Sandy was on his feet, all business. "Let's get you upstairs to see Seth before Kirsten realizes that you still haven't seen a doctor and throws her weight around."

Ryan slowly eased himself down into the wheelchair. "Kirsten has weight at Chino County?"

"Son, my wife has weight at Wal-mart if she wants it."

/-/

Carefully, Sandy pushed open the door to Seth's room. Kirsten was sitting beside the hospital bed, a pale Seth lying beneath the blankets. An IV was in his arm, a bag of clear liquid slowly dripping into his body. He looked weak, broken. Ryan's breath caught in his throat.

Then Seth turned his head and all tension vanished.

"Dude! You look like hell!"

Ryan smiled, pressing a hand to his ribs defensively.

Kirsten approached quickly, bending low to wrap her arms around him carefully. "How are you?"

Her eyes were soft, concerned. Ryan searched them for traces of disappointment; there was none. He nodded, trying to reassure her. "I'm okay, really. And I'm sorry."

"You did nothing, besides maybe forget that you own a cell phone, but the way Seth tells it, you were a hero."

Ryan was surprised at her words. "I'm no hero."

"Dude!" Seth cried out. "That Trainwreck guy had his gun pointed straight at me. You tackled him right before he shot. You totally saved my life!"

"No." Ryan shook his head. "I was too late, he shot you before I could stop him."

"No way man. He barely nicked me, a little blood, couple of stitches. I'm hoping for minimal scarring, just enough to brag about."

"Okay, Seth," Kirsten said quickly, standing. "I think we've all had enough talk about guns for one night."

"Sure Mom, no more guns. Why don't you see if you can snag me a Mountain Dew? Ry and I have to catch up about, ah, baseball."

Kirsten shook her head, smiling at her boys. "Five minutes and then Ryan is going back to get those wounds treated. I can't believe no one has seen him yet. Sandy, who can we talk to?" She turned to leave the room.

"I told you so," Sandy whispered, following behind.

Ryan followed Sandy with his eyes, then slowly brought them back to Seth. He had a lot of explaining to do for today. Suddenly the room felt several degrees cooler. His stomach clenched as he worked up the nerve to speak. "Look," he paused. "I need to apologize to you."

"For what?" Seth was surprised.

"For everything. For today. For my mom, and Rick. For going on a drug run and being held hostage. For," his voice cracked. Shaking his head, he gestured toward the hospital bed. "For getting you shot."

"Dude, you didn't exactly pull the trigger."

"No, but I brought you there, and I shouldn't have. I told you before we left that it wasn't safe."

"Yeah, clearly it's not, but you needed me today. Remember the fantastic save I pulled off—Beamer button to the rescue."

"Seth!" Ryan was losing his cool. There was trademark Seth—turning something horrific into a game. Why couldn't he just take things seriously for once? Ryan's stupidity had almost gotten them both killed. "Don't laugh it off. Don't pretend that today wasn't horrible." Ryan's voice was sharp and Seth recoiled against the pillows.

An awkward silence settled between them, Ryan picking at his wounded hand, Seth staring at the ceiling. Finally, Seth shifted and spoke.

"Today was without a doubt the scariest day of my entire life; it's certainly the first time I've been held hostage and I got to go on my first drug run. Woo hoo." Seth forced a laughed that faded quickly when Ryan didn't reciprocate. Coughing roughly, he continued, "Look Ry, from the moment I walked in that house, you had my back. And that felt like classic Seth and Ryan, like Kavalier and Clay—like brothers."

Ryan was silent, taking in what Seth had to say.

"This morning I wanted us to get back to where we were months ago—friends who totally got each other and knew what the other wanted before he did. And, well…what better way to do that than walk through the shadow of death, if you get my drift."

"Seth…" Ryan shook his head.

"Don't try to argue with me, you know I'm right."

"Seth." He wanted forgiveness so badly and Seth was offering it to him on a silver platter. Why couldn't he take it? Was he never going to feel deserving? "My mother's drug dealer held you hostage, took you to buy coke, _shot_ you, and tried to shoot me. How can today be the day that makes us better friends? Can you explain that to me?" Ryan was panting.

Seth's voice was soft as he offered one last explanation. "You're forgetting one thing—your mom asked you to come down here. Today happened because you still love her." He shrugged, shifting beneath his blanket. "Don't beat yourself up. Maybe you're not a hero, but you're not a criminal, the way I see it, you're just a son."

Ryan stared at Seth for a long moment, the words sinking in. Just a son. Just Dawn's son. Just the kid who couldn't be blamed, once again, for his mother's mistakes. He looked away, head shaking, shoulder twitching. "I should have done something."

"Dude, look at your hand. You did." Then he chuckled. "And you better get that thing looked at, you know I'm squeamish about blood."

Catching Seth's eye roll, Ryan couldn't stop the smile spreading across his face. Typical Seth, always there with the funny. He tried to flex his hand, streaks of pain darting up his arm. Wincing, he shifted uncomfortably in the wheelchair.

Seth broke in. "Go. I am going to lie here and enjoy my morphine." He reached out to pet his IV stand. "Precious," he cooed.

Before he could try to leave, Sandy reentered the room. "One first-class trip to Treatment Room 3, coming up."

He tugged on Ryan's wheelchair, pulling him away from Seth's bed. As they moved backwards, Ryan looked at Seth once more, an apology written all over his face.

Seth answered his unspoken question. "We're good, Ry. We're good."

As Sandy pushed him through the hallways, the relief he'd felt at Seth's bedside faded with every step. Ryan couldn't help it—he wasn't programmed to resolve problems. Something was always wrong, somebody always needed help. Now, with Seth's forgiveness firmly in place, the true consequences of the day's events fell heavily on him. His mother had killed a man today, the man that tried to kill him. She'd saved his life, now he had to thank her.

_/tbc/_


	7. Chapter 7

**Legacy  
Chapter 7**

Ryan entered the vacant room; a table with two chairs the only furniture. Gently, he eased his aching body down onto one of the metal chairs. It had been a week since the 'incident', that's what Kirsten had taken to calling it, and his body was still stiff and sore. His bruised ribs had turned from a mottled blue-purple to a faded greenish-yellow but didn't hurt any less. He rested his bandaged hand on the table before him; his knuckles were healing slowly, split and bleeding from his fight with Rick but not broken. The burn on his neck was his worst injury, twice daily dressing changes that he had to submit to letting Kirsten do. He hated being dependant on her for anything, especially something he'd been partially responsible for.

Admitting that he wasn't to blame for what happened wasn't easy, and he wasn't ready to completely cast off all accountability, but he was trying to forgive himself—and today was another step on that path.

A sharp buzzing caught his attention and he looked up as a door opened and a prison guard entered the room. His hand was clasped firmly on the arm of a prisoner—Dawn. Ryan stared as the guard unlocked the handcuffs pinning her wrists together and led her to a chair across from him. She smiled nervously as she took a seat, immediately reaching her hands across the table toward him.

"How are you?" Her voice was pleading, her eyes searching. She looked…concerned.

Warily, Ryan pulled back, tucking his arm in. He wasn't used to this, wasn't sure how to respond to her attentiveness.

She caught the gesture, pulled back slowly herself. Letting her hands fall limply to her lap, she smiled sadly, shrugged her shoulders. "I messed up, Ry." She stopped, seemed to consider saying something else, then shrugged again.

He was surprised. Today had been rehearsed in his mind countless times. He'd come in, see her crying her eyes out, begging forgiveness. Or maybe she'd be flippant, blame it all on him, or Seth. But to just say nothing, just accept it, he didn't know how to handle this version of his mother.

"I just wanted to see you." He stared hard at her, taking in her reaction. "Make sure you were okay."

The smile again. "Make sure I'm clean?" She waved away his protest. "Do I want a drink? A smoke? A hit?" Her eyes were clear, focused intently on him. "Of course I do. But I haven't. I won't."

Ryan nodded, not believing her.

"It's different this time, baby. I'm going to change. You'll see a difference."

He had no reason to believe her. "You said that before."

"But I never killed a man before."

They'd both been thinking it, but once Dawn put the words out there, the atmosphere changed. The air felt thicker, like it took effort to move one finger. Slowly, Ryan shifted in his chair, leaning just the slightest bit toward her. She didn't make a move; stayed rooted to her chair like a statue.

Finally he spoke, "I don't really remember what happened."

She paused, seemingly searching for the right words. "Everything seems blurry to me, but I remember you fighting with Rick, and Seth was just there, just lying there. The cops were at the door and all I could think was that I had to stop them from getting in; we had the coke." Dawn met Ryan's eyes, ashamed. "I got the gun out to protect Rick, protect us. I can't lie to you; I thought the cops were going to arrest him." She shook her head, bowed away from him. "I don't expect you to forgive me."

He was quiet for a long moment. Processing what she'd said, accepting it as what he'd already assumed. "Tell me the rest."

His mother looked up again, unsure of what to say. Finally, she said, "I got the gun, and then suddenly everything was different. Rick was on top of you and he had his gun pressed to your neck." Her voice shook as she recounted the scene. Hands trembling, she showed Ryan how Rick had pressed the barrel into his neck, pushing her fingers against her palm. "The look on his face…I just aimed and pulled the trigger. I never shot a gun before in my life. I barely even held one."

Ryan was quiet, waiting for her to finish.

"I didn't know what I was doing." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I could have killed you."

His stomach lurched. "He _would_ have killed me."

She shook her head, closed her eyes.

Ryan got it—it was easy to take blame onto your own shoulders. Trying to pin it on someone else, no matter how obvious the target, didn't work for some people. Normally, he would have pegged his mother as someone who could pin blame on people without a second thought, but here she was, explaining how she'd saved the life of her son and still looking for blame.

Gingerly sliding his bandaged arm across the steel tabletop, Ryan reached out with his left hand until he was almost touching her. "Mom."

Dawn jerked her head up at the familial term.

He spoke softly. "You saved my life. Thank you."

And with that phrase, he was free. He could see the hope flooding her face. She cried, he almost did, and she snatched him into a hug before the prison guard could force her back to her seat. He'd passed a torch to her today—hope that everything would be alright. For so many years, he'd carried the weight of hope with him. Hope that she'd love him, hope that she'd be the mother he'd always wanted—and now he was done. In the one moment that he'd needed her most, she'd come through. After that, he didn't have to hope for anything else.

As he pushed away from the table, said his final goodbyes and watched her leave, a peace settled over him. She would be in jail for a long time, the third Atwood family member to be incarcerated in the California penal system. It was almost expected, like they were born into a life they couldn't change.

Ryan turned to leave the room. Sandy was waiting for him outside, a celebratory meal planned at home that night with Seth and Kirsten—his family. The Atwood streak would stop at his mother, he was going to work hard to make it that way. Life didn't have to follow a set plan; she'd left him a legacy, he didn't have to live it.

_/fin/_


End file.
